


As the Time Passes

by cheyla



Series: WIP Wednesdays [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Original Character(s), Polyamory, Possible Mpreg, Post-War, References to Depression, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28738815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheyla/pseuds/cheyla
Summary: Starting tomorrow, for the first time since the war, the trio would be split up. Hermione was going back to Hogwarts until October, when she would be taking her N.E.W.T.s, Ron would be at the Ministry every day, on a fast track program to become an Auror, and Harry would be here in his apartment, trying to figure out what to do with his life now that Voldemort was dead and never coming back.It was too painful to be in the wizarding world after the war. The Muggle world would give him privacy as he tried to move on. However, Harry failed to realize one thing—if the wizarding world could hide from Muggles, certainly there were other worlds capable of doing the same thing.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Original Male Character(s), Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: WIP Wednesdays [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095647
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44
Collections: Fanfics Harry Potter não concluidas





	1. Chapter 1

“This is it?” a red-haired young man asked, stepping inside the small flat and looking around. His friend nodded, causing the speaker to give a small sigh.

“Are you sure, Harry?” he asked. “You don’t have to live here. Mum and Dad have already said that you’re welcome to live at the Burrow.”

Harry shook his head with a hint of sadness. “It’s too difficult right now,” he admitted. “Your family is still grieving over Fred and I can’t help but feel I’m responsible for that.”

“You’re not!” Ron protested immediately, loudly. Harry gave his best friend a small smile but that faded after a few seconds.

“Besides, it’s a little awkward between me and Ginny,” he continued. “I need to be on my own to get over a few things but don’t worry, I’ll still visit.”

“Good,” Ron said. “Mum would never forgive me if I didn’t make sure you came over for dinner at least once a week. Are you sure about here though? There’s plenty of flats near or in Diagon Alley.”

“If I stayed in the wizarding world, everyone would know where I lived by the end of the week,” Harry pointed out. “This offers a bit more privacy, which I need. I don’t need the newspapers speculating that I’ve snapped from grief after I hex a few reporters that don’t stop bothering me.”

Ron laughed but it quickly trailed off. Like Harry, he was struggling with smiling or showing happiness. It seemed too soon and four months after the Battle of Hogwarts and the official end of the Second Wizarding War, funerals and memorials were still being held.

“Harry! Ron!” Both men turned when they heard their names being called and they both waved Hermione over. As Hermione caught up to them, she glanced into the flat.

“Have you not finished moving in yet, Harry?” she asked with a frown. She could only see a few boxes and Harry’s trunk in the living room.

“Kreacher is bringing the furniture over later,” Harry explained. “But other than that, yeah, this is it.”

Hermione’s frown deepened. It didn’t seem like her friend had a lot.

“Don’t worry, Hermione,” Ron assured his girlfriend. “This apartment is small enough that once Harry unpacks everything and leaves it all over like he always does, it’ll seem like it’s overflowing with stuff. If he ever unpacks that is.”

Harry glared at his friend. “I can’t help it,” he protested. “I’ve gotten used to living out of my trunk, which I have to admit is still a lot better than living out of Hermione’s bag like all three of us used to do.”

Ron and Hermione smiled before the memories turned them somber.

“I can’t believe that everything that happened started only a year ago,” Hermione said softly. “It seemed like a lifetime.”

The three stood in silence for a few minutes before Ron started moving around the apartment, checking all of the rooms.

“Merlin, Harry, this is tiny. You barely have enough room to breathe,” he said.

“It was the cheapest I could find,” Harry said. “Besides, size wasn’t important. I just need a place to sleep and relax until I figure out what I’m doing next.”

Starting tomorrow, for the first time since the war, the trio would be split up. Hermione was going back to Hogwarts until October, when she would be taking her N.E.W.T.s, Ron would be at the Ministry every day, on a fast track program to become an Auror, and Harry would be here in his apartment, trying to figure out what to do with his life now that Voldemort was dead and never coming back.

His original plan to become an Auror had been tossed aside. Kingsley, the acting Minister of Magic until a new one was voted in, had offered Harry and anyone else that had fought in the war to be placed in a fast track Auror training program that would have them being awarded the title after a month or two to help build up the ranks as quickly as possible. Ron and many others had accepted. Harry had declined the opportunity. He needed to grieve for the lives lost in the war and didn’t want to feel like he was preparing for another one. He also needed to figure out if his visions for the future had changed now that Voldemort was no longer a threat.

Hermione and Ron helped Harry unpack his few belongings and arrange his furniture when Harry had called Kreacher to bring it over. The apartment looked smaller once everything was set up but Harry didn’t mind. He wasn’t planning on holding any parties or even having people over. It would just be him and occasionally Kreacher whenever the house-elf wanted a break from Grimmauld Place.

When that was all done and the trio had grabbed dinner at a restaurant just a few doors down, Harry, Ron, and Hermione reluctantly went their separate ways. No longer would they be spending every night at the Burrow or at Grimmauld Place together. Hermione was apparating to Hogwarts, Harry had his apartment, and Ron was going back to the Burrow.

“You’re coming for Sunday dinner, right?” Ron asked before he left. Harry nodded.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he promised.

“Good, because Mum’s making all of your favorites,” Ron informed him. “She’s still upset that one of her children is leaving already. It was bad enough when Charlie had to go back to Romania and his dragons and now you’ve left. Even Bill and Percy are still afraid to move out.”

“I didn’t mean to upset her,” Harry said quietly. “But it was something I needed to do.”

“I know,” Ron replied. “Just remember you’re welcome at any time. No one is ever going to say otherwise. You’re still a part of the family, same as the day when Fred, George, and I pulled those bars from your window and rescued you.”

Harry smiled but his throat tightened at the memory. He glanced over at Ron and saw that the redhead was blinking furiously, holding back tears. Four months and Fred’s death was still raw.

“I’d say see you Sunday but it’ll probably be a lot sooner than that,” Harry said, forcing the knot in his throat down. Ron nodded.

“It better be,” he said before apparating away. Harry returned to his new apartment and collapsed in a chair that was stationed at the small dining table just outside the kitchen. After a few seconds, Harry furiously slammed his fist down on the wooden surface and kept hitting it until the action became too painful.

“Hurting himself is not helping Harry Potter,” Kreacher’s raspy voice came from next to Harry, where the house-elf was setting an ice pack and a sleeping pill.

“Well, it’s the only thing I can do until I can find something that takes away the guilt,” Harry grumbled, putting the ice pack on his hand. He eyed the sleeping pill warily, not sure if he wanted to take it or not tonight. The muggle pills worked as well as potions and were less addicting but he hated the side effects. Every night, Harry was forced to decide whether he wanted any sleep at all or sleep plagued by vivid dreams and nightmares before waking up more tired than he had been when he had fallen asleep.

“No pills tonight, Kreacher,” Harry said wearily. Not his first night in a new place. The house-elf nodded and popped away, taking the pill away as he went.

After sitting at the table in silence for a few hours, icing his hand, Harry forced himself to his feet. He threw the ice pack in the sink and stumbled into the small bedroom, tugging off his clothes before crawling under the covers and forcing himself to doze while he was feeling tired. In less than an hour, he would be awake again and the struggle to sleep would continue through the night, resulting in Harry spending more time awake with his thoughts than asleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

It took only a few days before Harry decided that he needed to find something to do. The peace and quiet was nice until it started giving Harry too much time to think.

With a great sigh, Harry stood up and pulled on a pair of trousers and a button up shirt. He made sure that he at least looked presentable and made sure he had his keys and wallet before opening up the apartment door and stepping outside into the fresh air.

Harry wandered the streets near his apartment for a few hours, getting a feel for the neighborhood before he stopped for lunch at a small café.

“University student?” the waitress asked him as Harry sat down. He raised an eyebrow. “Only the students look as tired as you do, but it’s usually not until near the end of the term when they get to your point. Coffee’s free for students, as long as you like it black and hot, with nothing added.”

“I’m not a student,” Harry informed the young woman, who looked to be only a few years older than him. She smiled at him.

“Coffee’s still free if you like it black and hot,” she said. “We’re trying a new brand and need opinions.”

“Coffee would be wonderful,” Harry said. “Do you have any muffins?”

“Blueberry, banana nut, or chocolate?” the waitress asked.

“Chocolate,” came the instantaneous reply.

“Coming right up.”

Harry looked around the small café as he waited for his order. It had a homey feeling to it, with bookshelves taking up the walls, completely filled not only with books but also with pictures and different flavors of tea. Harry and the waitress were the only two people in the café.

A few minutes later, a very large cup of coffee was placed in front of Harry, along with a chocolate muffin on a plate. Harry hesitated for a second before asking the waitress to sit with him as she was heading back to the counter. She looked surprised but agreed.

“So if you’re not a student, what do you do?” the waitress asked as she pulled over a chair and sat down.

“Nothing currently,” Harry sighed. “I just moved to the area. Still trying to figure things out.”

“Well, if you end up managing that, you should give me some tips. I’ve been trying to figure things out for the past few years.”

Harry gave a small laugh at her comment.

“I’m Harry,” he said quickly as he realized that he’d forgotten to introduce himself.

“Carrie,” the waitress replied.

“Are you a student?” Harry asked. Carrie looked like she could be in one of her last years of university studying but she also could have graduated by now.

“No, that ship has long since sailed,” Carrie replied. “I just work here while my daughter goes to school right down the road. The owners of this place are really good about only giving me hours when she’s in school, which makes things easier.”

“How old is she?” Harry asked.

“Eight.”

Harry blinked at the answer and peered closer to Carrie. She didn’t look any older than twenty-four.

“Is she enjoying school?” Harry asked. Carrie’s smile brightened and she nodded.

“It’s her favorite place in the world,” she said. “Besides the café. She enjoys coming in and greeting customers before and after school. Our regulars enjoy it so much that this year I’ve started working an extra hour or two so she can spend more time here.”

Harry smiled and he took a drink from his coffee now that it had cooled somewhat.

“How do you like it?” Carrie asked.

“It’s a good brand,” Harry said. “Especially since it’s free.”

Carrie laughed at that.

“Anything will taste good when it’s free,” she agreed.

The bell above the door rang and Carrie got to her feet as a customer entered the café. Harry watched as she greeted the woman and got the order, before starting to prepare the food.

That first customer was the start of a flood of them. The lunch rush had started and Carrie was still the only employee in the café.

Harry polished off his chocolate muffin quickly and down the large coffee before heading up to the counter. However, instead of paying at the front, Harry went around the counter and searched until he could find an apron. Carrie was rushing around, trying to serve and get orders at the same time. Overhearing some of the orders, Harry started pulling out plates and putting the ordered baked goods on them. When she came back to the counter, Carrie gave Harry a surprised but thankful look as she set down the orders.

“You get the drinks, I’ll get the food,” Harry said.

“Thank you,” Carrie said softly as she rushed around to the back of the counter.

Preparing and serving the food before customers got impatient was a quick process, especially when orders kept piling up, but a familiar feeling of adrenaline started rushing through Harry’s veins. The dark-haired man bit his lip but continued working and didn’t stop until the last customer had been served.

“That was fun,” Harry said as he started to relax and watched customers leave.

“It’s called lunch rush for a reason,” Carrie said. “You really shouldn’t have.”

“You were the only one here,” Harry said with a shrug. “I didn’t want you to have to struggle to keep up."

“The other person working days here quit when her university classes started,” Carrie informed him. “The owners try to be here but they have another café and restaurant besides this one. We’ve been trying to hire but no one seems to want part-time hours, not even the students that are looking for work. Not that I blame them—this café isn’t as close to campus as some others are.”

Harry debated for a few seconds. This could be what he needed. From first impressions, he liked Carrie and felt like he could work with her without any problems. The café was close to his apartment and it would only be part-time hours. Besides, he had liked the brief adrenaline rush.

“Is there an application?” he asked. Carrie looked at him in surprise.

“You’re interested?” she asked. “Like actually interested?"

Harry nodded.

“I need something to do,” he said. “While I’m trying to figure things out. This sounds nearly perfect.”

“You would be a godsend,” Carrie said as she pulled out a bunch of papers stapled together. “Just fill these out and bring them back if you’re still interested after going through the process. I’ll mention you to the owners and unless you’re a felon with a long history, I doubt there would be any reason why they wouldn’t hire you.”

Harry gave her a small smile as he flipped through the sheets. “I’ll bring these back tomorrow,” he promised.

“There will be coffee waiting,” Carrie said. “Just as another incentive.”

“Free?” Harry asked, pulling out his wallet. Carrie nodded. There was a brief disagreement between the two over Harry’s muffin—Harry wanted to pay, Carrie said it was on the house—but eventually Harry paid for his food and left with a job application in his hand. As he walked back to his apartment, he read the application questions more closely. Harry frowned as he reviewed the education section. That was going to be tricky. He didn’t want to lie on the application but he couldn’t exactly say that he went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

When Harry got back to his apartment, he set the application down on the table where he would remember to fill it out. Kreacher was cleaning the apartment for the fourth time in three days as Harry set his stuff down.

“Again, Kreacher?” he asked. “You know that I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

The house-elf didn’t look like he wanted to agree.

‘Takeaway every day,” he said. “If Harry Potter does not feel like cooking, he should at least call Kreacher to make food for him.”

Harry sighed but he didn’t feel like arguing with the house-elf. Instead, he collapsed on the small futon he had managed to fit in the living room and flicked on the television, letting the sound dull his thoughts. After a good half hour, he could feel his eyes fluttering closed. Harry relaxed and let sleep take over. 

* * *

Harry jerked awake as a loud noise outside his window pierced the air. The green-eyed man stumbled over to the window and opened it, popping his head out and looking around through bleary eyes. It didn’t take long before he identified the source of the noise as a pair of cats fighting over territory. Harry rubbed a hand over his face after he shut the window and stumbled over to the table, glancing at the clock on the wall as he passed it. Two o’clock. He had slept for nearly twelve hours, the first time he had slept that long since the war had ended.

Harry paused. No, that wasn’t quite right. He hadn’t slept through the night since Voldemort’s return, over four years ago. He didn’t count the nights when he was drugged up on sleeping potions in the hospital wing since those were forced sleeps.

The man rubbed his eyes and pulled out a pen. With the way he was feeling now, he knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep without some sort of aid. Instead of doing that, he decided instead of fill out the job application he had received that afternoon.

He worked through it section by section, making sure that his writing was legible. Writing with a pen on paper was difficult after spending his schooling writing with a quill on parchment. Harry left the education section for last, still not quite sure what he was going to write down. Technically he had never graduated from Hogwarts, which made things even trickier.

Eventually, Harry decided to just put down Hogwarts and the years he attended. If questioned, he would answer as vaguely as possible and just pray that the owners didn’t try to contact anyone to verify his information.

Another section that he left blank was the reference section. Any references he could think of had no contact information available to muggles and the one who did couldn’t be contacted.

Sitting back and reviewing the information, his application looked flimsy and made Harry seem under qualified. All of his achievements or experience in the wizarding world couldn’t easily be transferred to similar achievements in the muggle world, so there was a lot that Harry had left out. Hopefully they were so desperate for help that the owners wouldn’t mind.

Harry brought his application over as the café was opening, so he got the chance to meet Carrie’s daughter, Shannon. She seemed like a bright little girl with a large personality and he could see why the café’s regular customers enjoyed seeing her. Carrie had flipped through Harry’s application quickly and had jotted down her own name as a reference, something Harry was very grateful for.

“Is there an interview or anything?” Harry asked. Carrie shook her head.

“I’d be in charge of that,” she said. “Since I’m putting my name as a reference, it won’t be necessary. The next step is training, which probably won’t start until Monday.” She looked apologetic at that but Harry waved her worries away.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll be visiting friends the next few days. Just give me a call and tell me when to show up if I get the job.”

“You will,” Carrie assured him. “I’m already positive that it’s a sure thing.”

Harry smiled at that and left the café, saying goodbye to Shannon on his way out. The eight-year-old girl had waved to him before cheerfully greeting a couple walking through the door as Harry held it open.

* * *

Harry gave a relaxed sigh as he breathed in the familiar scents of the Burrow. Despite feeling guilty about Fred’s death and the awkward tension between him and Ginny since they hadn’t gotten together again after the war, he would always miss this place. It would never feel like home like Hogwarts had but it was still a place that was special to him.

“Harry!” Molly greeted him loudly as he walked through the door. “How have you been? Have you been settling in all right?”

Harry nodded as she hugged him. “I found a job to keep me busy,” he informed the older woman. “It’s only part-time hours and I don’t know how long I’ll keep it, but I think I’ll enjoy it.”

“When do you start?” Molly asked, leading Harry toward the kitchen. “Tell me about it while the boys are setting up the tables.”

Sunday dinners had become quite an event at the Weasley household since the end of the war. Every member of the family came together with their significant others for the night and Harry enjoyed the time spent with the Weasleys, even if there were somber silences or misplaced comments that drew up memories. The only excuse for missing was being outside the country and sometimes Harry didn’t even think Molly would accept that excuse.

Somehow, in one way or another, Harry always ended up helping Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen. No one else in the family was interested in cooking and much of the extra work was done by magic with no other set of hands. Harry had ended up helping and found that it was a good way to talk to the woman privately whenever he had something on his mind.

About an hour later, Ron and Hermione came in from outside to tell Mrs. Weasley that the tables were set up and to get silverware and dishes to lay out.

“Harry!” Hermione said, rushing over to hug him.

“How was your first week?” Harry asked both of his friends.

“Bloody brilliant,” Ron said with a bright smile. “The Aurors training us…they really know their stuff. None of them are as good as Moody but there’s a few that come pretty close.”

Harry gave him a small smile before turning to Hermione. Contrary to the smiles he expected from his friend about her new schooling, Hermione was quiet.

“It’s hard,” she admitted. “I’m glad I decided to take the tests in October because I don’t think I could have lasted a year there.”

“Hard school work?” Harry asked, not quite understanding. Hermione shook her head.

“Being in the castle at all. Every corner I turn, every corridor and classroom I go into…I see the war. I still feel it, even though you could never tell that a battle was fought there besides the memorial stone. After the first night, I asked Professor McGonagall if I could stay at the Three Broomsticks instead of staying in the castle. Apparently I wasn’t the first student to make that request.” Hermione’s wry smile came out as a grimace.

“It’s only for a month,” Ron assured her. “And Ginny is having a hard time with it as well.”

“Everyone’s having a hard time!” Hermione snapped. “Even the first years and they weren’t around to see what happened in May. Do you know how many students are afraid to use magic now? How many students never even bothered returning?"

Harry flinched and Hermione covered her mouth in horror as she realized how her words sounded.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean the dead, just students that decided to go to other schools or that they didn’t want to learn magic at all.”

“I know,” Harry said, but the knot in his throat was back, making his voice sound tight.

All of them hated moments like these. Things would go well and then one comment would bring all of the memories rushing back, sobering the mood. Harry had wondered many times if things would ever go back to the way they used to be, when he could laugh and joke with his friends with ease, the past only a distant memory.

He doubted it.

“What do you think you’ll do after you take your tests?” Harry asked, changing the subject. Hermione and Ron traded looks.

“Well, Hermione was thinking of going to look for her parents. I’ll be out of the training program and Kingsley has a few tasks in Australia that he wants carried out, mainly tracking down a few remaining Death Eaters. He’s already assigned me to those tasks,” Ron said.

Harry stared at his two friends, feeling numb. They were going to Australia? Together? In a month? But what about him?

“Oh,” Harry said. Both Hermione and Ron looked distressed.

“We had planned to ask you to come with us but we heard you telling Mrs. Weasley about your new job,” Hermione said quickly. “You can still come—“

Harry was already shaking his head. “No,” he said. “I doubt I’d get the time off. Besides, the media would get wind if I was planning on leaving the country and it would tip off the Death Eaters that Ron would have to look for.”

“Harry….” Hermione said but Harry pushed past her to get outside, where the others were continuing to set up. Mrs. Weasley had joined them, starting to determine where everyone would sit.

“’Arry, ‘ow are you?”

Harry turned to face Fleur and Bill, who were standing hand in hand.

“Fine, and you?” he asked. “Still living at the Burrow?”

“None of us want to risk leaving, not after seeing what Mum was like after Charlie decided to go to Romania and after you decided to move out,” Bill said. “Though, we probably will in the next month or so and return to Shell Cottage.”

“Eet became our ‘ome during the war,” Fleur explained. “And eet still feels like ‘ome now.”

“It was a lovely place,” Harry murmured, forcing down the knot in his throat that threatened to come up further as he remembered Dobby, who had been buried there. He needed to visit the grave soon.

“You’re welcome to visit at any time,” Bill said, seeming to understand. “Even if it’s just a few minutes. Luna’s been by a few times.”

That surprised Harry. “She has?” he asked. Bill and Fleur nodded.

“She says that it’s a pure place, not infested by nargles and humdingers,” Bill said, a small smile on his face as he recalled Luna’s words. “A place that will be untouched for many years yet.”

“I haven’t seen her since the unveiling of the memorial stone,” Harry said sadly. “I’ve been horrible about keeping in touch lately.”

“Everyone understands,” Bill assured him. “We don’t expect anything at this point from anyone. It’s going to take different amounts of time for everyone to grieve but once you’re ready, we’ll all be here.”

Harry nodded in thanks before wandering away. He sat off by himself until dinner started, trying to push away all the memories that were starting to come back. He gave Ginny an awkward smile when she arrived. Ginny nodded curtly before going to catch up with her brothers.

After the war had officially ended, in between the numerous funerals and memorials, Ginny and Harry had gotten the chance to talk. They had both wanted to try and resume their relationship but after sharing a kiss where Ginny was crying (it reminded Harry a lot like his first kiss with Cho), they had decided to hold off so they would have time to grieve and process their feelings a bit further. However, Harry was starting to doubt that they would ever be in a relationship again. Every time he saw her, Harry felt more and more that she would be nothing more than Ron’s sister, and therefore his sister. Any hints of passion or attraction that he held for her had started to fade.

During dinner, Harry sat next to George, who still looked as lost as the day Fred died. It hurt Harry to look at George and not see Fred but he wouldn’t let that stop him from interacting with the man. The two of them were quiet, only answering questions that were asked to them directly, but Harry preferred it that way and he thought that George did too at times.

Even months after Fred’s death, it was apparent that the Weasley family didn’t know how to act around George. Even in their worst nightmares, they had never imagined the twins being separated. Mrs. Weasley still broke out in tears sometimes just seeing George’s face. It seemed that only Harry and occasionally Hermione were able to treat George as they had before the war.

“I’m moving back to the shop next week,” George told Harry as they ate. “I’m thinking that it might help Mum and it’ll be easier to work if I’m living above the shop. It’s tiring being at home during my best inventing hours where I can’t do anything. At least if I’m at the shop, there’s no one around to mind if I blow a few things up.”

Harry gave George a small smile before taking a piece of cake that was floating toward him.

At the end of the night, as Harry was getting ready to leave, Mrs. Weasley began shoving container after container into his hands.

“You need some home cooking,” the woman informed him when Harry tried to protest. “You can’t live on takeaway.”

“I haven’t been,” Harry protested but the look he received clearly stated that Mrs. Weasley didn’t believe him. Harry wondered if Kreacher and Mrs. Weasley had been talking behind his back about his eating habits but that thought soon disappeared. Kreacher didn’t like talking to humans.

It was late when Harry arrived home and there were sleeping pills on the table for him. Harry looked at them before sighing and going to grab a glass of water. He had his first day of work in the morning and he needed at least some sleep if he wanted to make a good first impression.


	3. Chapter 3

The month of September passed fairly quickly for Harry once he established a working routine. It didn’t drag on like the summer months had. Instead, it was only the weekends that went by slowly; when Harry had nothing else to do besides occupy his thoughts and when he had to go to the Burrow for Sunday dinner.

He only worked from the breakfast rush to the lunch rush every weekday but those few hours at the café were enough to brighten his day and to chase the dark memories away until it was time to sleep.

Harry found that he liked working with Carrie. The woman was good at creating conversation and she wasn’t offended if Harry didn’t participate in them occasionally. She kept him entertained with stories about Shannon after the girl left to go to school every morning.

Of course, the regulars at the café enjoyed seeing Carrie and Harry working together, getting a kick out of their rhyming names. Harry was fairly sure that was part of the reason why the amount of regulars had been increasing from week to week.

Harry still kept in touch with his friends, though he was finding it harder and harder to do so. He was still in disbelief that Hermione and Ron would be leaving in the second week of October to go find Hermione’s parents and hopefully some remaining Death Eaters. He still didn’t know what he would do when the pair finally left and he had no one to turn to. Hermione and Ron had become his lifelines after the war and now that was going to be ripped away from him.

Unfortunately, Harry knew why it was difficult to find the motivation to stay in contact with his friends. He was preparing for the upcoming separation by cutting himself off slowly.

What bugged him was that Hermione and Ron didn’t seem to notice that Harry was keeping to himself more and more as the date that they were leaving came closer. If they had noticed, they weren’t surprised by his actions and almost seemed to expect it.

Just the thought of them expecting Harry to act like that put the man in a sullen mood that not even Carrie and Shannon managed to shake.

During the first week of October, Hermione took her N.E.W.T.s at the Ministry of Magic, the only one in Harry’s year to make the attempt. The other ‘eighth years’ as they had started to be called had opted to wait until the spring and take their exams with the current seventh years. However, Hermione had been studying throughout the summer and she had made it clear that she was going to take the N.E.W.T.s at the first possible chance.

The following Sunday, only two days after Hermione finished taking her N.E.W.T.s, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were enjoying the last Weasley Sunday dinner they would have together for at least a few weeks.

“When does your Portkey leave?” Harry asked before they sat down to eat. This week he was sitting across from both of his friends, making conversation a bit easier.

“Tomorrow morning at nine,” Hermione said softly. “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind?”

Harry shook his head.

“I have work,” he said. “I’m enjoying my job and I would probably just make you miserable if I had to leave it to come with you.”

“How’s Carrie?” Hermione asked. She hadn’t met the woman but she had heard a lot about Harry’s co-worker.

“Brilliant,” Harry replied. “She’s been allowing Shannon to come up with flavor ideas for some of the baked goods we served and some of them have actually been huge hits. Especially the peanut butter frosted chocolate banana muffin. We had a huge influx of American tourists that day after we wrote it on the sign board.”

‘”Is there anything between you and her?” Ron asked as they started to serve themselves some food. Harry sighed. His regulars had been asking that a lot lately.

“No,” he said. “Carrie’s got a boyfriend that she’s been seeing for the past three years.”

“And you?” Hermione asked, glancing further down the table at Ginny, who was sitting between George and Charlie, who was home for the weekend. Harry shook his head.

“There’s no one I’m interested in,” he said. “I doubt me and Ginny will get back together again. She’s too much like a sister now.”

Ron sighed. “Am I supposed to be happy about that? Or upset? Because I’m feeling both.”

Hermione and Harry laughed.

“What?” Ron demanded. “I’m really glad that I don’t have to imagine you and my sister snogging but you’re one of the better blokes out there. I didn't mind you as much as some of her other boyfriends.”

“Does she know?” Hermione asked. Harry glanced at Ginny to see her staring at them. “You should at least tell her that you’ve moved on and that there’s no more possibility.”

“She knows,” Harry confirmed. “She asked if there was a chance a few weeks ago and I said no.”

“Why did she ask?” Hermione questioned. Harry glanced warily at Ron before shrugging.

“I guess someone else caught her eye.”

Ron’s jaws clenched together for a minute before he let out a long sigh. “She’s not out of Hogwarts yet,” he protested.

“So?” Hermione questioned. “She’s very mature for her age.”

Silence fell between the trio as they all remembered why Ginny and many of the students in their year and hers were mature for their ages.

Hermione pushed her plate away. “I always say the wrong thing, don’t I?” she stated. “Everything’s going fine and then I say something thoughtless and ruin it.”

“We’re all doing that,” Harry assured her. “And we all understand. You’re not doing it on purpose.”

“Still, I hate it,” Hermione said. “As soon as we start acting like we did before, it gets ruined by a thoughtless comment. If this keeps up, we’re never going to heal."

“It’s only been five months, Hermione,” Ron reminded her. “It can take years to grieve. You don’t just stop overnight.”

Hermione sighed. “I know,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t hate it. Everyone is a shell of who they used to be.”

It was then that Harry realized that Hermione needed this trip to Australia more than he needed her and Ron to stay with him. Hermione needed some time away from England for her own grieving. She needed to find her parents and hopefully restore their memories of her. Maybe once she left and came back, she could realize just how much people and the community were healing.

“I wish I could see you off,” Harry said. “But I’ll be at work by then. Bring back something for me?”

Hermione and Ron nodded.

“We’ll write as much as we can,” Ron said. “Though I don’t know how long it will take for the owls. Hopefully this doesn’t take any longer than a few weeks.”

“First thing you do is come and find me at my apartment,” Harry said. “I don’t care what time it is or who I’m with. You know where my apartment is.”

The rest of the evening passed in a much lighter mood and Harry was even smiling by the time Molly was shoving food in his hands before he could go home. He would miss Ron and Hermione but he was feeling better about them being gone. He could handle things without them around. Like Ron said, it probably wouldn’t take any longer than a few weeks.

* * *

October soon passed into November peacefully, the only thing causing a slight disruption was Carrie slamming an application to the closest university in front of Harry when they were taking a small break. She was adamant that Harry go further with his education and when it became clear that she wouldn’t drop the subject, Harry had sent Kreacher with a letter to Professor McGonagall asking how students had gone about going to muggle universities after attending Hogwarts. As a reply, his old professor had sent back transcripts that were muggle approved and his diploma for graduating, even if he had only taken his O.W.L.s. Harry had been surprised that technically only O.W.L.s. were required to graduate and that N.E.W.T.s were optional. However, nearly every job in the wizarding world required N.E.W.T.s so every student was taking the option to carry on with their schooling and gain that extra qualification.

With those documents in hand, Harry filled out the application with Carrie. She had gone through the process before, managing to gain a degree while working part-time and still raising Shannon on her own, and her knowledge was a valuable asset.

By the time December rolled around, Harry had sent in his application and was waiting to hear back. If he was accepted, he would start school the following September. Hermione would have been proud of him but unfortunately, there was usually a month between communications with his friends. It was difficult, especially seeing his friends weekly if not daily, but there was nothing Harry could do about it.

With the colder weather came more customers at the café. Harry found his hours being bumped up to full-time during the season and the owners of the café had even hired a third worker to help them cover busiest times of the day.

“I really hate holiday shopping,” Carrie groaned as she and Harry closed down for the night. “Why do people insist on buying their presents the week before Christmas?”

“Because they don’t bother to think further ahead than that?” Harry replied. Carrie rolled her eyes.

“I need a break,” she said. “A night out. We’ve racked up enough hours to afford it.”

“What about Shannon?” Harry asked.

“Nick is watching her tonight,” Carrie replied. “They’re having a movie marathon of every Christmas movie ever, according to Shannon.”

Harry laughed at that.

“Me and Heather have already decided to go to the pub,” Carrie said, referring to the temporary employee they worked with. “Do you want to come?”

Harry hesitated. “How long do you think you two will be out?” he asked.

“Not long, just enough for a beer or two. Heather has a test to study for in the morning and I have to make sure my child doesn’t go to bed insanely late.”

“Okay, then,” Harry agreed. He could do with a night out. Truthfully, it was getting boring going back to his apartment every night with nothing to do but watch television.

“Wonderful,” Carrie said with a smile. “Now go home and change and meet us here in an hour.”

“It’s not going to take me that long to change,” Harry protested. “And it shouldn’t take you or Heather that long either.”

“It won’t,” Carrie replied. “But Heather has to go to campus and back. I didn’t want to rush her, so we have an hour.”

Harry couldn’t really say anything else. Instead, he hung up his apron and started to head home, trusting Carrie to lock the doors as she followed him out.

* * *

Fifty minutes later, Harry was back at the café, waiting for his two co-workers in the doorway, out of the wind. Despite being out of the wind, it was still bitterly cold, making Harry grateful he had cast a heating charm on his clothing.

As he waited, Harry watched the people passing by. Most were unaware of their surroundings, but there was one man who stopped in front of the café when he spotted Harry standing in the doorway.

“I think it’s closed,” he said after a few seconds, pulling down the scarf that was covering the lower half of his face. Harry grinned.

“I’m aware,” he said. “I’m waiting for some friends but unfortunately, I’m a bit early so I have to suffer in the cold.

“You don’t look like you’re suffering too much,” the man observed. Harry peered at him closer. Much of his body was covered up by his knee length wool jacket and hood but he could tell that the man had light brown hair that was shorter on the sides and slightly longer on the top. He had a square jaw and slightly defined cheekbones, creating a strong face that was set upon a body that was around six feet tall. He didn’t seem any older than twenty-two or twenty-three.

“It really isn’t bad,” Harry admitted. “But my neck is getting cold. I wish this jacket had more of a neck covering to it.”

The man stared at him for a few seconds before unwrapping the scarf around his neck.

“Take it,” he said, handing it to Harry, who stared at the man with a stunned expression.

“I can’t just take your scarf,” he protested.

“You’ll put it to good use,” the man replied. “I have another in my pocket, so I don’t really need it.”

“Do you always go around giving your scarves to people on the street?” Harry asked with a smirk. As the man watched and pulled out a second scarf from his left pocket, Harry wrapped the offered scarf around his neck.

“No, I just deal with people who frequently forget that they’re human and therefore can get cold,” the man replied. Harry laughed at that comment but quirked an eyebrow. If he was a muggle, he would have taken that comment at face value but being a wizard and knowing about werewolves, he had to wonder.

“Let me give you my number in case you ever want it back,” Harry said quickly, pulling out a pen from his pocket. Since working at the café, he had taken to carrying a pen around everywhere with him.

“If you insist,” the man said.

“I do,” Harry replied and stepped forward. He grabbed the man’s hand and drew it from the pocket, noticing that it wasn’t gloved. Before he could think twice, he was scribbling his name and home number on the man’s hand. The man stared at him for a minute before smiling softly and tucking his hand back in his pocket.

“Have a good night,” he wished Harry before stepping away. Harry watched him go, feeling strangely sad. He felt as if he had missed some sort of opportunity.

Shaking his head, Harry brushed the feeling away and started looking for Heather and Carrie again.

Carrie arrived first and Heather arrived only a minute afterwards. Neither of them said anything about the scarf, even though Harry had never worn one before.

“Ready?” Carrie asked when Heather arrived. The two younger adults nodded, ready to get inside and warm up with a few drinks.


End file.
